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Dirty Bad Strangers(3)

By:Jade West


“This... this... desperation. This fucking around. This overcompensation thing you’ve been doing ever since we moved here!”

I looked behind her, but Tess kept her gaze on the floor, unwilling to commit either way.

“I like drinking, and dancing, and I like sex. So?”

“So, there’s more to it than that!” Chelsea said. “Overcompensation.”

“Overcompensation for what?” I laughed. “Being sober and stuck at home every evening all week? I work late nights, I let my hair down when I get a Saturday off, big deal.”

Tessa took a step forward. “We’re worried, about you,” she said. “That’s all.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” I smiled. “Seriously. I’m all good. Peachy.”

“You act like a slut,” Chelsea groaned. “You didn’t even know his name, did you? Humped him on the dance floor in front of the whole club, practically, not caring what kind of spectacle you were making of yourself.”

“I was dancing!”

She folded her arms, scowling at me. “You think it looks good, but people are laughing at you, you know that?”

My blood ran cold. “Laughing?! Who’d even give a shit what I was doing? The dance floor was rammed.”

“This isn’t like back home,” Chelsea said. “People here are different, the place is different, so much more pressure... we get it, ok? You feel insecure and you’re acting out. We’re just looking out for you.”

“I don’t feel insecure,” I laughed. “Why should I? I just like dancing, and sex, like plenty of other people.”

“You’re pretty,” she smiled, patronisingly. “Your weight doesn’t need to be a big deal.”

“My weight?!”

“We know it must be hard, being the big girl,” Chelsea said, “but that’s no reason to act up like this, it only draws attention to yourself. So what if you aren’t thin like us? It doesn’t make you a worse person, Gemma. You’ll get a boyfriend! You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

“I’m not trying…” I was suddenly stone cold sober. So sober that my teeth started to chatter in the night chill. I gawped in shock. “You think I dance and have sex because I’m trying to prove I’m not too fat to get a boyfriend?!”

“Don’t you?” Chelsea challenged. “I mean you’ve always danced... but since we’ve been here you’ve been making an all-out spectacle of yourself.”

“I’ve been having fun...” I said. “Feeling free. I love dancing.”

“Yeah, well, maybe dancing doesn’t love you!” she said. “Don’t you realise what it looks like for the rest of us? Our bubbly slutty friend burning up the dance floor?”

Tears pricked, but I choked them back, knocked sideways by Chelsea’s attack but not sideways enough to cry. “That’s what I am, is it? Your bubbly slutty friend?”

Finally Tess found conviction of voice. “No, of course not.” She elbowed Chelsea aside. “We were just worried, that’s all, worried that you’re under a lot of pressure.”

“Pressure of being too fat and ugly to get laid? Is that what you think?”

“No,” Tessa sighed. “That’s not what we think.”

“That’s not what you think,” I said. “Unlike Barbie over here. Dancing has nothing to do with my weight. Sex has nothing to do with my weight. I’m not overcompensating, I’m not insecure, and I’m not jealous, I’m just having fun. I thought you knew that... I thought you were my friends...”

“Oh, God, let’s get the violins out,” Chelsea said. “Just because we said you could probably do with losing a bit of weight, don’t make us into demon bitches. You’ve been acting like a slut, and we called you out on it. It’s out in the open now, let’s move on.”

I stood mute. Dumbfounded.

“It’s not just the dancing, or the sex, or the drinking...” Chelsea added. “You’ve changed in London. The new job as well... who seriously does sex chatline for a living? I mean, sure, as a side thing, but what about a real job?”

“A real job?! Like your real job?!”

“Modelling is a real job,” Chelsea said.

“I’m not even getting into this,” I said. The tears were pricking again. I itched to tell them to get fucking stuffed, ached to offload two barrels straight for them, and tell them how it really was.

I’ve always been curvy, but I’ve never felt fat, and sure as hell never felt ugly. My parents always taught me that being beautiful came from the inside as well as out. They taught me to appreciate being different. Taught me to value the green of my eyes, and the rich copper tones in my hair. Taught me that my freckles made me different, and pretty, and cute. Taught me that it’s ok to dance like nobody’s watching, that it’s ok to feel comfortable in your own skin.